suitcase
by orange crush
Summary: Angels' work has paid off in L.A. But for some people, shansu just spells goodbye.


He looks at me, hands in his pockets, and it's easy to forget what he is now. It's easy to forget he has a pulse, that he's taking in air now, just like me. We are almost the same now, he and I, and because of that he's leaving. Forever. I'd like to be able to yell at him. Heaven knows I have enough times. We've hurt each other, deeply and often, but we always came back. I'd like to be able to wound him as he walks out the door, to make something sting deep enough in his brain that he'd have to come back, if only to make me angry, and we'd end up kissing, and all of this would be forgotten.

Except I've never kissed him alive. It makes it hard to be angry with him, this new person I hardly know. There are little lights behind his eyes, and he is smiling with his whole body. He's going to see her. It's not hard to figure out. He picks up his suitcase, and puts it back down, and repeats this a few times. Maybe he'd like me to say something, like 'have a nice trip'. I won't. I'm not making this any easier on him than I have to.

"Is that everything ?" I say, and mentally smack myself. He nods.

"That's all of it." Everything you wanted to take ? I find myself seething. Meaning you're leaving me behind. "Not a lot of stuff. You know me - I always traveled light." he tries to grin, and I hate him for a second. I do know him. Better than she does. She fell in love with him at sixteen. I fell in love with him at twenty-three. Makes a world of difference. When your hormones are screaming that loud, it's easy to say things like 'soul mate' and 'forever'. I always said 'now'. Now that we have each other. We have each other for now. I was only selling myself short, suddenly I see that. Reinforcing his belief that this was only temporary. He has to be watching my face, because when he speaks again, his voice is low and rumbling, the way it gets when he's worried. "Cordy…" he says, "you're gonna be okay… right ? I mean, we talked about this, and… if you don't want me to…"

"It's fine." I say, and lie. "I understand." and I flash him one of the old-time smiles. The real happy ones, the ones I gave just to him. Ones I wasted, I guess. When he leaves I will forget how to smile this way. "You've got to go." I look up at the clock. "Bus leaves in a half-hour. I still don't see," I add in, hoping he'll catch my message this time, "why you're not taking the car."

"You know I want you to have it." he says, in a tone that's supposed to be tender and intimate. I want to hit him. I don't want your stupid car. Your stupid car smells like you, and feels like you, and reminds me of the wonderful things we've done together, things I thought were special and would last. As long as I have that car I won't forget. Can't forget. Take that fucking car with you, please. 

"Yeah." I leave it at that. I never could hurt him that way. So we'll just stand here, then, until he picks up his suitcase again, and I take a sip of the coffee that's gotten far too cold. 

"Cordelia…" he says, and his voice catches in the back of his throat. Is he sorry that he's leaving me ? Well, so am I. "Cordy," he starts again, "you know that… what we shared… it's meant so much to me." he makes a slight movement with his free hand, trying to find the right words. Is it hard for him to say he loves me ? It should be. But he's not leaving until I hear it. "You know I'll always… I'll always love you." There it is. I should be satisfied now. But here I go again.

"You sure you won't think about staying ?" the words just spill out until what I'm thinking is laying in front of us on the rug. We both roll that sentence over in our minds for a minute. Of course he won't think about staying. I don't think a thought, other than visions of a certain blonde, has entered him since he started pumping blood again. He didn't want to touch me, even in our bed, since he's been human. Keeping himself pure for her, or something. Makes me sick. He was willing to do it all with me before, to let me think that maybe he'd changed his mind. But it was always me versus her, and I never had a chance.

"I can't."

"Right." the word sounds harsher than I mean it to, and infinitely less harsh than I'd like it to. "I guess this is goodbye, then." and I let my voice soften at the edges. He smiles at me, his eyes already taking her in far away. He kisses me on the forehead. Every time he's ever kissed me flashes through my mind, and it feels like I will never be able to close my eyes again without seeing him in front of me, eyes closed, hands smoothing up my hairline, coming for the kiss. Something paranoid in my mind wonders if it was really me he saw while we were kissing, but I shut that voice up as quickly as I can. I am Cordelia Chase, and no man who ever kissed me could be thinking about another woman. Except he isn't like any man I ever met. I loved him dead. And I'll love him alive, here or not.

Betting on not.

"Goodbye, Cordelia."

"Goodbye, Angel."


End file.
